


Magic in the Heart of the Kingdom

by Snowy_Cas



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Crystal Cave (Merlin), F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Minor Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Season/Series 03, Slow Burn, they're all idiots if you really think about it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26619034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowy_Cas/pseuds/Snowy_Cas
Summary: "Father, are you insane? It can't have been Merlin, I know him very well, well enough that if he had magic, I'd surely be aware of it!" Arthur argued. He waved his hand at Merlin and pleaded, "Merlin, tell my father he's wrong, that he didn't see what happened right." Merlin was silent. 'Go on, tell him," Arthur continued. 'It- it must've been a trick of the light, an illusion. Come on Merlin, tell him. Please."There was nothing Merlin could say.
Relationships: Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 44
Kudos: 113





	1. Tell Him He's Wrong

Laughter and merry cheers filled the air as the royal banquet ran late into the night. The extravagant feast prepared by the royal kitchen had been finished up quite a while ago, but the room still buzzed with conversations of tipsy knights, royals, and servants alike. At the head of the table sat the king and prince of Camelot, at their side the Lady Morgana. They were whispering amongst themselves and smiling. It was an odd sight, as they were not often seen all getting along, but there was something that night that made everything feel warm and fuzzy. Off to the side of the main table, Merlin and Gwen were quietly gossiping about the visiting royals.

"His head's shaped a bit like an egg, isn't it?" Merlin joked as he nudged Gwen with his elbow. She let out a small chuckle but composed herself as the said royal glanced over at them for a moment with a quizzically raised eyebrow. 

When he turned away, Gwen shoved Merlin back. "Shhhhh, what if he heard us?" she reprimanded. Merlin just shrugged in response and continued to watch the banquet. 

He was pleased to see Arthur enjoying himself, less pleased to see Morgana beside him smiling, as if she was just the king's innocent ward. If only Merlin was able to tell Arthur the truth about her, and about what she and Morgause had been up to, but he couldn't reveal that lot of information without accidentally spilling his own secret. Merlin shook the thought off and decided to keep his mind off of bigger matters. He wanted to try and enjoy one stress free night. 

Turning his gaze away from the head of the table, Merlin focused his attention to Camelot's visitors. They had come from the Kingdom of Deira, and so far seemed to be mingling well. Ordinarily Merlin was wary of new people, but he couldn't imagine that these cheery fellows had any ulterior motives, and he especially couldn't imagine anything happening during a feast as jovial as this one had turned out to be. Arthur's voice pulled him out of his head, calling Merlin's name and beckoning him over to refill his tankard.

"Merlin! I'm out of mead," Arthur slurred. Rolling his eyes, Merlin walked up to the table and obliged. Arthur motioned for Merlin to stop just before his cup would've overflowed, and immediately took a large gulp of it. A few drops spilled onto Arthur's shirt and Merlin couldn't help but smile. He was about to retreat back to Gwen, but was stopped by another voice behind him, Morgana's.

"Wait, I need some more as well." Merlin paused for a moment. "Or are you just going to ignore me?" A few chuckles rose up around her, Uther’s voice among them. Begrudgingly, Merlin turned to reach over the table and poured mead into Morgana's goblet as he flashed his best fake smile. It was met by an even better one from her. She tipped her goblet in Merlin's direction in an act of acknowledgement and raised it to her lips to drink. She then asked, "Merlin, why don't you see to it that our guests are taken care of as well? We can't be the only ones in need of a refill." 

Merlin laughed. "I think our guests have had _plenty_ to drink tonight, my lady," he said, growing quieter at the end as Uther shot him a piercing glare. If looks could kill... Luckily, all Merlin's statement earned was a bout of guffaws from the visiting royals.

The ruler of Deira, King Roulf, stood up. He picked his goblet up with one hand and looked around the banquet hall. "No, no, the boy is right," he admitted. "I for one have had quite my share of food, drink, and entertainment tonight, and would like to thank our hosts for the lovely evening." King Roulf held his goblet high in the air, and others around the table rose to do the same. 

Merlin, relieved that the king had taken what was said into good humor, was back to watching the feast with Gwen. Once the knights and royals all were standing with their drinks raised, King Roulf announced, "To the King of Camelot, may he live long and well." A resounding chant echoed throughout the room. _To the king_. Uther gave a firm nod and sat back down. The rest of the room followed behind him. That is, except for Roulf. No one seemed to think anything of it, but Merlin found it rather strange. He perked his head up and focused on Roulf. Something was off. Noticing the servant’s gaze, the king smirked and gave him a wink. King Roulf set his goblet down with a sigh and added, "I only wish I could say the same for dear Arthur.”

Before anyone knew what was happening, a silver arrow shot through the crowd with a zing. Merlin watched in horror as it went straight for Arthur's heart. A million thoughts raced through his head at once. He should've known to not be so trusting, things are never this relaxed. Would he be able to save Arthur in time? Would everyone know of his magic? Was Arthur going to _die_? As soon as that last idea came into his head, Merlin knew what he had to do. Without another seconds hesitation, Merlin bolted to Arthur and threw his hand out in front of him.

_Gestillan!_

Merlin's eyes glowed gold for an instant and the arrow clattered to the ground. He couldn't hear anything else over the sound of his own heartbeat, but realized after a few seconds that there was nothing to hear. The entire hall was silent. Merlin looked around him. Knights he'd known for years, servants he'd helped out for as long as he'd been in Camelot, those who he even considered friends seemed to shrink back in fear. Even King Roulf looked surprised. The beating of Merlin's heart quickened. It was all over. Everyone had seen. 

The silence was broken by Uther's booming shout, "Guards! Take this scoundrel away, his men too!" he said, gesturing towards King Roulf. There was little resistance as Camelot's knights swept through the crowd and took Deira's people away, as they seemed to be too confused to comprehend what was happening. They were clearly not expecting magic to foil their plan. Merlin wanted nothing more than to shrink down and disappear so he didn't have to face what he knew was coming next. "And you..."

There it was.

Uther's voice was so filled with rage, it was unlike anything Merlin had ever heard from him before. "You have magic!" he roared. "I put my trust in you, made you my son’s manservant, and you've lied to us this whole time!" 

Merlin averted his eyes from the livid king and met Morgana's gaze. Her mouth was agape and she looked utterly bewildered. He knew she was wondering why he never told her, why he never allowed her to confide in him. Uther may have been furious over Merlin's disloyalty to Camelot, but that was nothing compared to the betrayal he saw in Morgana's eyes. Merlin didn't know who to look at, so he turned from both of them and was met with Arthur. Oh god, _Arthur_. His master, his best friend, his destiny. Merlin couldn't help but stare at him. Arthur's face was completely blank, then it twisted into rage. He stood up and yelled, but not at Merlin. No, he was yelling at Uther.

"Father, are you insane? It can't have been _Merlin_ , I know him very well, well enough that if he had magic, I'd surely be aware of it!" Arthur argued. He waved his hand at Merlin and pleaded, "Merlin, tell my father he's wrong, that he didn't see what happened right." Merlin was silent. 'Go on, tell him," Arthur continued. 'It- it must've been a trick of the light, an illusion. Come on Merlin, tell him. _Please_." 

There was nothing Merlin could say. 

Once more Arthur spoke, his voice raw with desperation,"Tell him he's wrong." When there was still no response, Arthur stepped back in shock. Tears began to brim in his eyes. In that moment, Merlin's world was destroyed.

He wanted nothing more than to go up to Arthur and tell him what he wanted to hear. He wanted to hug Arthur and reassure him that Merlin would never betray him, that he could be trusted. Merlin wanted to say he'd do anything for Arthur, that he lived for him and would die for him in an instant, that Arthur was the most important thing in the world to him and he'd never want to jeopardize that, ever. But he couldn't. 

"Arthur, I'm so-" Merlin started to say, but he choked on a sob before he could get the rest of his words out. The next thing he knew, strong hands wrapped around his arms and pulled him away. Uther's mouth was moving and barking commands, but Merlin couldn't hear them. Everything around him grew blurry. Nothing felt real. This couldn't be happening. His throat was dry and his limbs turned into lead, his lungs ached from breathing heavily and his stomach grew queasy. Worst of all, Merlin could swear that he felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. Tears began to stream down his face. He did nothing to stop them. Merlin grew farther and farther away from Arthur until the doors slammed between them and the last bit of light in the hallway faded away.

* * *

"May I be the one to tell him?" Arthur asked softly. He and Uther sat across from each other in the council chambers. The two of them were alone. After the events of the evening, Gwen and a few other servants had cleaned up the banquet hall in silence. Camelot's civilians had all gone home for the night and would be awaiting any news of the sorcerer in the morning. The council, against Uther's wishes, allowed King Roulf and the other royals of Deira to return home without any prosecution. They decided it would be too much hassle to properly deal with them. Besides, Arthur appeared too distraught to even think about legal matters. 

Arthur sat up straighter in his chair. "Father? May I be the one?" he repeated.

Seeming to snap out of a trance, Uther grounded himself and responded, "No, I don't think so," he gripped the arms of his chair. "I believe we should keep this as impersonal as possible."

Arthur looked down at the floor. He didn't say anything.

"Arthur," Uther huffed. "I'm sorry for what happened, I know you and the boy were close, but I need you to understand that he is dangerous. Magic can only be used for ill. The rules in Camelot are that we must execute anyone possessing magical abilities, and your servant can be no exception."

"But father, I-"

"I said no exceptions."

Arthur knew that if he pressed any further that Uther may not be so level-headed, but he spoke anyway. "All I'm asking for is to tell him when the trial will be held. Nothing more, nothing less. Can't I do that? Really, what harm can it cause?" Uther's stoic expression didn't waver, so Arthur kept talking. "I promise you I'll keep it as impersonal as I can. Please, father." When Uther remained silent, Arthur threw his hands into the air out of exasperation. "Fine. I'm going to bed." 

He got out of his chair and swiftly walked over to the large doors. Just as Arthur opened them, Uther finally responded. 

"I suppose you may," he said, "But you will keep it short and to the point, yes? We can’t afford any further complications." 

Arthur turned around and nodded to his father. “Thank you.” He then left the room without another word. 

Arthur's footsteps echoed as he advanced through the halls of Camelot. Shadows danced all around him, caused by the flaming torch he held in front of him. At this point, it was very late into the night, perhaps even early morning. Everyone had retired to their respective chambers and gone to sleep. 

The castle was deadly quiet. It had been since the banquet came to an abrupt halt. After what happened with Merlin, no one said much. Arthur couldn't blame them of course, since it was nearly impossible to believe that Merlin, clumsy, bumbling, foolish Merlin practiced the art of magic. The heavy silence gave way to a brief laugh from Arthur. He imagined Merlin tripping over his own feet while casting an incantation, causing it to backfire in some idiotic way. 

But Arthur did have to give credit where credit is due. As incompetent as Merlin was sometimes, he was also brave, perhaps braver than any man Arthur had ever met before. Merlin was kind and gentle. During hunts, in the moment Arthur delivered the killing blow to an animal, the servant would avert his eyes, not wanting to see the life drain from an innocent creature's eyes. On bad days when Arthur was low, Merlin would do his best to cheer him up with light teasing, and even though Merlin's jokes were truly awful more often than not, they always improved Arthur's mood, even if it was only for a short period of time. 

Many a time did Merlin take new servants under his wing and show them how to complete their duties, taking them around the castle and guiding them through the kitchens, washing rooms, even sneaking into royal chambers sometimes. Gwen had said once that Merlin would do anything for anyone, and only now could she be doubted. 

It was only as a royal guard gave the prince a strange look as he passed did Arthur realize a wide smile spread over his face while he was thinking. Needless to say, it faded nearly instantly. Arthur gave the guard an awkward wave before he continued down the hallway and redirected his attention to Merlin. How was it possible? The servant had never even made a good liar. His face was practically an open book sitting there, waiting for someone to read it, and Arthur sure could read it well, or so he thought. 

Realizations began to strike Arthur and caused his heart to sink into his chest. All those times Merlin would disappear for hours on end with no good excuse, and all the time he spent dallying in the tavern or collecting herbs for Gaius, yet Arthur never saw him do either. Secrets, secrets, secrets. Pieces kept clicking into place. Merlin told lies upon lies, day after day, directly to his master's face. If this much about him was fake, what else did he keep from Arthur? At this point, did Arthur even know who he was? Uther's words rang in Arthur's ears. He cannot be trusted. 

The phrase hung in the back of Arthur's mind as he arrived outside the entrance to the dungeons. Two of Camelot's strongest knights were positioned outside. Just the thought of Merlin having to be guarded by men such as these was so ridiculous, but nevertheless, it was necessary. They greeted Arthur with sympathy riddled faces and stepped aside to let him through. Arthur then began his descent to the cells. 

The first thing that struck Arthur when he reached the last step was a harsh chill that froze him to the bones, creating an effect in the air around him that made his lungs feel like they were breathing ice. Shivers wracked his spine and caused him to pull his jacket tighter and bring his torch closer. Arthur shakily exhaled. A small puff of frosty air escaped from his lips. If the cold was getting to him this bad, he didn't want to know how Merlin was coping. The boy was as thin as a rail and his garments were nothing more than cheap fabric, the kind that even the slightest breeze could pervade. 

_He is dangerous._ The voice of Uther whispered to Arthur, sending even more chills down his spine. Arthur shook off his worry. No, this wasn't his friend, it was a treacherous sorcerer. He shouldn’t be concerned for his welfare.

With his mouth in a tight line and as little emotion as possible shown on his face, Arthur approached the one occupied cell in the corner of the room. Blue moonlight filtered down through the grate above, revealing a trembling figure curled up behind the hay bales. Merlin. 

Although not much could be made out in the darkness Arthur noticed Merlin’s back heaving and heard muffled sobs. Instant distress flooded through Arthur and before he could stop himself, he carelessly discarded his torch against the wall and grabbed the cell's iron bars with his hands, pink from the cold.

“Merlin.” Arthur’s voice was hardly more than a whisper, still the boy must’ve heard him seeing as the dungeons grew silent. No discernable movement came from the corner of the cell. Trying yet again, Arthur said louder, “Merlin!” 

Finally the figure weakly stood up, but came no closer to Arthur. 

“Are you alright?”

“Do you care?” a feeble voice rebuked.

Arthur was taken aback by the anger in Merlin’s voice. Metal rattled as he took his hands off the bars, stepping away from the cell. 

“I-” Arthur started, before he really thought about the question. Yes. Yes, of course he cared about Merlin’s well being, however much he knew he shouldn’t. Words of affection and care churned in Arthur’s stomach, begging to be spoken to the servant, needing to let him know magic didn’t change the way Arthur felt about him, but it did. The lying, even more. 

“No,” said Arthur shortly, “I don’t. I’m only here to inform you that your trial will be held around mid-morning tomorrow.” He shifted his weight around a bit. “I didn’t even want to come down here. My father insisted it was best if I told you.” 

Merlin kept quiet, presumably absorbing the information. 

Arthur cleared his throat. “That’ll be all,” he finished. With that, he retrieved his torch from against the wall and headed for the staircase.

“Wait,” Merlin called, his voice sounding stronger now. Arthur stopped. He turned around and gazed at the sorcerer who had emerged from the shadows. Tear stains covered his face below the blue eyes that once held such vibrance and life, now red rimmed and puffy, devoid of even a small glint of light. His complexion was always rather fair, but now he just looked sickly. He must’ve been crying for hours. Merlin continued, “I need to talk to you.”

Arthur scoffed, “What’s there to talk about?” He walked back to Merlin and said, “Camelot’s rules are rather self explanatory, and you’ve lied to me all this time. I see no reason to hear you out now.”

Anger grew in Merlin’s face. “No, you don’t understand, I didn’t have any other choice,” he insisted. “I didn’t choose magic, I was born with it!” Arthur’s eyes widened. “And I’ve done nothing but good with it. I use it for you Arthur, only for you,” Merlin ranted, growing louder with every word. “You wouldn’t even be here right now if it weren’t for me, that’s how many times I’ve saved your royal ass. I’d never use magic to hurt an innocent, I swear, and neither would many of the people your father has murdered. I _have_ magic Arthur, it’s always been a part of me and it always will be!” With his chest rising and falling heavily, Merlin stopped and waited for Arthur to respond.

“You’re serious?” he questioned incredulously. Merlin opened his mouth to speak but Arthur went on, “Merlin, I don’t care whether you practice magic or if you were born with it, if you use it as a weapon or for God’s sake picking _daisies_! Whatever it is you have going on with your magic, isn’t my biggest issue here, don’t you see? What I can’t get over is you lying to me.” Arthur was now yelling, his arms wildly gesturing through the air. “All this time, I thought I could trust you-”

“You still can.”

“Let me finish. I thought you trusted _me_! But you clearly don’t, otherwise you’d have told me about this. And what other secrets have you hidden from me? Do I even know you, or you someone else entirely? Were you ever even my friend?”

“Of course I was! I still am in fact, but Arthur _please_ just try to understand my position. I wanted to tell you, I really did, but how could I? Never once in the years I’ve known you have you shown any sign of deviating from your father's ways. You just stand by and watch every time he executes a sorcerer. Maybe if you’d stood up against him, if you’d given magic users a fair chance, if even once you would’ve shown any shred of doubt for Camelot’s rules, I would’ve felt that I was able to tell you, but you’ve never done that,” he stormed, his voice growing hoarse once again. Merlin took a step back and tried to calm himself down. “For four years I’ve waited for the right moment to tell you, and I’ve never found it. When did you ever make me feel safe? I would have told you in a _heartbeat_ if I had only felt safe.” He sat down on the cell bench and put his head between his shaking hands.

Suddenly Arthur found himself at a loss for words. What could he say to that? Things were only growing more confusing. All his life, Uther taught his son that all magic was evil. He told tales of wicked witches and sinister sorcerers to scare Arthur into going to bed, trained him to fight against people who possessed such skills, and instilled in him from a very young age to feel no mercy during an execution, but looking at the huddled, weeping, shivering young man alone in his cell, Arthur couldn’t help but think, what if he himself truly was the villain?

“My lord!” a voice called out. It was one of the guards who were previously stationed at the top of the stairs. He asked, “My lord, are you alright? I hear shouting.”

Arthur waved him off. “Yes, everything is fine. I just need a moment.”

The guard shook his head. “I’m sorry, but the king has requested to see you. He says you’ve been too long.” He shot a glance over Arthur’s shoulder at Merlin. “Is he-”

“I said everything was fine,” snapped Arthur. “Let’s go.” Without so much as a glance back, Arthur strode up the stairs and out of sight.

* * *

“You were down there for quite some time,” Uther muttered. His fingers strummed on the side of the council table. He was staring off into the back corner of the room, eyes downcast and turned away from Arthur. “What took you so long?”

Pulling back the chair at the foot of the table, Arthur took a seat before responding to his father. “It’s nothing.” he leaned back in the chair and gripped the arms. “Perhaps I’m just a slow walker,” he added with a laugh after seeing his father’s brow furrow.

Uther sat down next to his son and looked him in the eyes. He demanded, “Do not lie to me.”

“Alright fine, I’m sorry,” Arthur apologized, sitting up. “I made a mistake, I shouldn't have engaged with him. I promise next time in a situation like this I’ll make better choices.

“What did he say to you?”

“It doesn’t matter does it? I talked some, he talked some, why don’t we leave it at that?

“ _He_ is a prisoner in _my_ kingdom, I am obligated to know what he said.”

Arthur sighed. “If you must know, Merlin told me he always had good intentions when using magic, that he did it to save my life,” he admitted. “He said he’d always wanted to tell me, but never felt like he really could. And he-” Uther’s eyes narrowed. “Merlin felt that many of the people you executed were innocent,” Arthur swallowed.

Uther stood up and slammed his fist on the table. “Don’t you see, Arthur? This was his plan all along. He infiltrates the kingdom, tries to become your friend, and then makes you turn against your own father.” Arthur looked doubtful. “Are you even listening to me?” Uther boomed. “This sorcerer is no different from the countless ones we’ve faced in the past. He’s corrupt, manipulative, and a traitor. You can’t believe the lies he’s feeding you.”

“But why not use his magic to kill us once he got inside the castle? He’s had many chances.”

“Do you expect me to know how the mind of a sorcerer works? They are evil, Arthur, pure evil. All that matters is that the boy’s loyalty does not lie with Camelot. It never has, and it never will.” Drops of spittle flew out of Uther’s mouth as he finished his statement. 

The prince still did not look entirely convinced, but it was enough to satisfy his father.

“Anything else before I retire for the night?” Uther was met with the shake of a head. “Good. I’ll see you at the trial tomorrow morning, then,” he concluded. 

The king and prince left the council room side by side before they went their separate ways.

Moments before Arthur reached the chambers of his doors, he sensed a second pair of footsteps behind him. He slowed down subtly before whirling around and stuck his hands up in defense, prepared for a fight. Red blossomed over Arthur’s cheeks as he realized it was merely Gwen.

Arthur greeted her, “Ah, Guinevere. It’s you. What are you doing up at this hour?

She shot a wide smile at him, but he could see the grief hidden behind it. “I couldn’t sleep, not after tonight's dinner,” Gwen explained. “I thought walking through the halls might tire me, but I’ve had no such luck yet.” 

“Right, well, good luck,” he said, heading back to his chambers.

“Arthur, wait!” She came up behind him and turned him around by the shoulder. “If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here. I know how you must be feeling, Merlin was my friend, too.” Arthur couldn’t help but stare down at his feet. “Let’s just hope nothing too bad happens to him. I don’t even want to think-”

Arthur softly shushed Gwen. “And you don’t need to think about it. Everything will be fine, I promise.” she slowly nodded and wrapped her arms around Arthur’s neck. “Now, thank you for your kindness, but I really must be getting to bed,” he told her, and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Arthur squeezed her hands once more before he finally retreated to his chambers.

“Goodnight, Arthur.”

“Goodnight, Guinevere.”


	2. For Arthur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That was it, Merlin was getting out of here. His death was essentially ensuring Arthur’s own untimely demise. It might as well be him on the pyre tomorrow. Merlin formed a plan in his head to save both their lives: he would escape Camelot tonight, venturing into the woods. There was no way the kingdom would ever welcome him back, so he would disguise himself from time to time in order to sneak back in to look after Arthur, like a sort of guardian to the prince. Yes, that would do. But first, he needed to stop by Gaius’ chambers to retrieve some of his belongings. Camelot was Merlin’s home, and he’d be a fool to leave without a few things to remember the kingdom by. 

Merlin shivered in the gloomy cell. His flimsy jacket was no match for the chill of the dungeons, especially now that it was nearing the darkest time of the night. Black clouds had since crowded over the moon, blocking any light from reaching Merlin’s cell. It may have been cold before, but now Merlin wasn’t sure if he’d freeze to death tonight or burn tomorrow -- neither of which sounded that appealing. 

If Merlin were to die, what would become of his destiny? Kilgharrah always said he must protect Arthur at all costs, that their destinies were intertwined, and Arthur was the Once and Future King. He would unite the Land of Albion and bring peace to the kingdoms, Merlin at his side. 

He laughed, cynical and bleak. There was no way that was happening now, at least the latter, for come dawn, he would surely be sentenced to death. Mere banishment was completely out of the picture. Merlin began to think, what would happen after his death? He had friends who would surely mourn him, even after learning of his secret, and a mother who would have her heart broken by the news. Then, there was Arthur. The prince’s reaction was a mystery. During their visit he seemed both concerned but angry, caring but cold. It could go either way really, but one thing was for sure; Arthur would soon realize he was a great deal better off with Merlin than he was without.

For one, Merlin would bet a whole year’s pay that Arthur was hopeless at getting himself up in the morning and actually dressing and feeding himself. All his life he had people at his beck and call, doing all the menial tasks for him. Of course, Uther would hire another manservant for his son, but Merlin wasn’t just any servant. He couldn’t even count how many times he saved Arthur’s life. Witches, bandits, beasts, curses, battles; Merlin had stopped it all. Arthur likely wouldn’t last a day without him. 

Merlin stilled. Arthur _really_ wouldn’t last a day without him. 

That was it, Merlin was getting out of here. His death was essentially ensuring Arthur’s own untimely demise. It might as well be him on the pyre tomorrow. Merlin ormed a plan in his head to save both their lives: he would escape Camelot tonight, venturing into the woods. There was no way the kingdom would ever welcome him back, so he would disguise himself from time to time in order to sneak back in to look after Arthur, like a sort of guardian to the prince. Yes, that would do. But first, he needed to stop by Gaius’ chambers to retrieve some of his belongings. Camelot was Merlin’s home, and he’d be a fool to leave without a few things to remember the kingdom by. 

The dungeons were deathly quiet. If the gates were to fall and clatter it would surely alert any guards standing watch by the entrance. Not a single sound must be made in the escape, so Merlin had to concentrate. How could he flee without causing a scene? He ran over a few possible spells in his mind but they all had their own issues that made it so stealth was not guaranteed. Finally after a few moments, Merlin remembered a spell used to open locked doors without the use of a key. 

He stood and jumped up and down a few times while shaking his shoulders to warm himself. His limbs had gotten to be very stiff in the hours he was locked away. Sizing up the bars, Merlin nodded to himself. He stepped back a few paces and whispered, “ _Aliese!_ ”

With a long creak, the door swung open. Merlin cringed and hissed through his teeth. The door itself was noisier than he gave it credit for. He proceeded no further, awaiting the arrival of a guard. No one appeared after a few moments, so he assumed it was safe to go. 

Merlin rushed out of his cell and into the tunnels beneath the castle, twisting through various turns, ducking beneath archways and sconces. 

A stranger to Camelot could easily get lost due to the intricate nature of the passages that ran like veins under the castle, but Merlin had been in and out of these halls countless times on his adventures. 

He found his way to a staircase that led up into one of the lesser travelled castle corridors. Even at high noon only a wandering servant may be seen. Guards were hardly ever positioned near the area, making it a near perfect route. His footsteps thudded dully against the dusty stones as he jogged up to the door. It opened soundlessly, thank the gods. 

With an air of caution about him, Merlin tiptoed into the hall. The corridor was completely empty. Merlin breathed a sigh of relief and proceeded on through the castle. He made every step as quiet as possible and stayed close to the wall. As long as there were no guards positioned by the staircase at the next right turn, Merlin would be good to go. It was a servant’s staircase, often used to keep the lower class out of sight when important persons were visiting the castle and Uther wanted to maintain a sophisticated appearance. It was stupid, really, but at least it made for a covert pathway through the castle.

Bit by bit, Merlin edged around the corner and readied himself for a fight. Magic tickled his fingertips, primed for use. Merlin threw his hand out instinctively, only to let it fall to his side as his face turned a deep crimson. He was about to fight an empty staircase. He shook his head and grinned before continuing on. All that was left to do now was grab a few belongings and escape the kingdom, one of which was perhaps a bit easier said than done. Either way, Gaius’ chambers weren’t too far now. Merlin hurried up the stairs and remained as noiseless as possible. 

He was stopped in his tracks by a few voices down the halls that were growing increasingly louder. One of them he recognized, Sir Leon, and the other must’ve been a knight Merlin hadn’t met. They were heading in his direction and he knew that if he didn’t find a hiding place soon, he would be caught and his plan would crumble to pieces. Of course he could always make a second escape attempt, but Uther would order higher security around Merlin’s cell, thus making the task quite a bit more difficult. Merlin looked around the corridor. Off to the opposite end of where his destination lay there was a small alcove. He sighed exasperatedly. Couldn’t there be a closer hiding place? The footsteps and voices only grew, though, so it would have to do.

Merlin’s boots slid over the floor as he dove behind the wall section and into the alcove. Leon and his company’s voices became clearer and Merlin was able to discern words of their conversation.

“...seemed rather upset. I don’t blame him, either,” proclaimed Leon, “He and Merlin seemed like they truly were companionable beneath it all.”

The other voice replied, “You think so? I always saw it that the prince was rather hard on him.”

“That’s because he cares.”

“Sure has a funny way of showing it.”

A blanket of heavy silence spread over the air as the footsteps ceased. The two men were directly beside Merlin, only the wall between them. Blood rushed in Merlin’s ears and his heart started to beat faster, nearly audible. He clapped a hand over his mouth so his breathing would not be heard and he tried to calm himself down so the knights wouldn’t hear him, and, furthermore, he wanted to hear their conversation. Maybe an outsider’s perspective could help Merlin better understand how Arthur was feeling.

“You will show some respect to Prince Arthur. As I previously stated, this is looking to be a hard time for him. Tomorrow he will have to see a good friend sentenced to death. You mustn't make matters worse by being dismissive of his actions,” Leon snapped. 

The second knight mumbled, “I apologize. I won’t say anything more of it, Sir Leon.”

“Good.”

They walked off, leaving Merlin alone with his thoughts and the growing pit in his stomach. He felt horrible about the situation. He didn’t want to think about the events of the night, he just wanted to keep everything out of his mind and play it off as a joke, but he couldn’t help it. Merlin leaned his head back against the wall and breathed out a long sigh. He was going to tell Arthur about his magic eventually, of course he was, but the time needed to be right. Putting Arthur in the position he was in now had always worried Merlin, the Prince had much on his plate and adding a moral dilemma to it all seemed rather selfish to Merlin. 

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” Merlin murmured to himself.

Merlin dreamed of a time where there was no stigma against magic, that Arthur would move past the ways of his father and try to see sorcerers for who they really were; _people_. A time where Arthur opened his mind to the wonders magic could create, looked through what he had been taught and witnessed the beauty in the middle of it all, accepted Merlin just the way he was. Merlin waited and waited for this time where he could tell Arthur, but it was clear to him now that he waited too long. His secret only bubbled just beneath the surface, the pressure rising and rising until it ultimately exploded in Merlin’s face. If he could only pretend none of this happened, his actions would be much easier. He groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. He truly needed to leave now.

Merlin slunk out of the alcove feeling exhausted. He’d been awake for almost a full day. His weariness spread further than just his body, though. It was always draining to not be able to relieve the secret weighing him down like a boulder, but he didn’t realize having his secret revealed could burn him out even more. With his feet becoming heavier and heavier with every step, Merlin approached Gaius’ chambers. The past 24 hours had certainly taken their toll on Merlin, surely Arthur was experiencing a similar effect. Merlin had no time to deal with his own inner troubles at the moment but he could ease the strain on Arthur’s back. Not knowing the whereabouts of your close yet treacherous best friend was undoubtedly more desirable than watching him burn. 

The shabby, albeit sturdy, door to Gaius’ rooms stood dauntingly in front of Merlin. Beyond it lay memories, both fond and bitter. It was where Merlin ate and slept, where he concocted everything from ways to save Arthur’s life, to how to greet him the next morning. He was always free to use magic and speak his mind. There were no secrets in these chambers. It was the only place in all of Camelot where Merlin could be himself. Those walls kept him safe and made him feel at peace. So why was it that it was also where Merlin felt most alone? He furrowed his brow in thought, hand hovering over the door handle. 

Yes, Merlin could do practically anything in these chambers, but he only had himself and Gaius. There was no one else for Merlin to share this comforting warmth with, no one else he could talk to about his problems or show off his magic to. The chambers acted as a refuge and a cage simultaneously, keeping Merlin trapped and cut off from the rest of the world. Sometimes he found himself gazing out his bedroom window into the vast green forests beyond Camelot’s border and fantasizing about running away and never looking back, freeing him and his magic. A stifled chuckle arose from Merlin. He wrapped his cold fingers around the handle and cracked the door open. Well, his dreams were about to come true, just as long as he didn’t wake-

“Gaius.”

The old man was seated at a table, completely awake. Candles dimly flickered all around the chambers, bathing Gaius’ face and the various bottles and books surrounding him in a warm orange light. There were deep bags under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept for a week and his dark blue robes were rumpled. The instant Merlin spoke his name, Gaius looked up and raised his eyebrow incredulously.

“Merlin?” he squawked. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Shhhhhh,” Merlin swiftly shut the door and rushed towards Gaius. “Quiet, there are guards out there.” Without allowing any time for a response, Merlin ran into his room and started shoving items into a satchel. He didn’t have many clothes to pack, just a few tunics of different colors and some trousers. Mostly, he was taking memories. His book of magic, a purple flower Gwen once gave him that he pressed to preserve, the small wooden dragon figurine his father had carved, and the favor Arthur wore on his arm during the first tournament Merlin saw him compete in. It had fallen off some point after the tournament, and Merlin had decided to pick it up. He wasn’t sure why he did that, why he kept it, or even why he was bringing it with him now, but he knew it meant _something_ to him.

“I have to leave, now. I’m surprised no one has sounded the bells yet,” Merlin spoke, hardly a space between his words.

“How did you-”

Merlin raised a hand and mumbled, “Just a moment.” He packed away one more belonging then closed the satchel tight. He grabbed a cloak from his bedside table and turned around to face Gaius. Instantly, he was wrapped in a fierce hug. Merlin was a little taken aback, but he ended up relaxing and giving in to the embrace. Soon after, he patted Gaius’ back and stepped away..

“Merlin, I was so worried about you. What are you doing?” he asked once more. “You’re supposed to be in the dungeons right now.”

“And you’re supposed to be asleep, I reckon,” Merlin replied.

Gaius huffed, “How can I sleep knowing you’re, well, at least you’re _meant_ to go on trial tomorrow?” He was drumming his foot against the steps. “You’ve done stupid things before, Merlin, but this… all of Camelot knows who you are.”

Merlin shot a finger towards Gaius and nodded, “Which is exactly why I’m getting out of here.” He hopped from his bedroom and ran down the stairs. “I didn’t think you’d be awake, sorry, I’m not sure I would’ve stopped by if I knew, but oh well. I hate to be here and gone so quickly, but you understand.”

Gaius followed close behind Merlin with his mouth agape, still clearly trying to process everything. 

“Oh, and if anyone asks, you were asleep when I came in and saw nothing,” Merlin added. He gave Gaius a slight smile. “And you never knew I had magic.”

“Merlin…” the physician said, sadness rising up in his throat and the word *no* was only an instant away from being said. All Merlin needed to know how Gaius felt was in the older man’s eyes; sorrow, a great deal of sorrow, mixed with worry and anger, and there was something else. It could’ve been the flicker of candlelight but Merlin thought Gaius almost looked… scared. Gaius was never scared.

It made Merlin feel afraid as well. He just wanted to get out of Gaius’ hair and bother him no longer. He replied, “Right, well then, I’ll take that as a yes. See you around, Gaius. ” Merlin pulled the dark hood of the cloak over his face to shield his identity from whomever he may encounter on his escape and made for the chamber door. He had barely touched the handle when a firm grip swivelled him around. 

“Do you understand the situation you’re in?” Gaius hissed. “This is one of the most dangerous things you’ve done in your life, and that’s truly saying something. Everything you’ve always feared has come to pass and you’re taking none of it seriously!”

Merlin snapped, “Because I can’t, alright? I can’t because if I do, all of this, all of what happened is real. It’ll all come weighing down on me and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to go through with this if I keep thinking about it,” he continued, “and if you don’t stop trying to stay loyal to me, Uther will have your head. That can’t happen, Gaius, you have to lie to him and quit protecting me.” Gaius stepped back to give Merlin some needed space. Fear was gone from his face, replaced with the anguish of a father who’s lost his son. “So just… just let me go now, please,” he finished, his voice wavering. 

Not another word was spoken between the two of them for the next minute. They could only stand there and look at each other, both of them wishing to comfort the other but not knowing how. Finally, Merlin curtly nodded his head and turned back to the door. He opened it and put one foot out before he paused, and left Gaius with his parting message.

“If this plan does go wrong, if something really does happen to me…”

He stopped in the middle of his sentence. His face contorted as if it pained him to speak these words. A single tear slipped down Merlin’s face and he sniffed, then wiped a hand across his eyes. 

“Let my mother know.”

* * *

Merlin hadn’t left Gaius for more than five minutes when the bells of Camelot rang loud and clear throughout the castle. The noise froze Merlin in his steps and a feeling of dread washed over his body. _Oh no._ A guard must’ve gone to check on the servant only to find him gone, the cell empty. He’d be surprised if Arthur wasn’t already awake and out looking for him alongside the knights, Uther, too. It was a miracle Merlin made it this far without being detected, but that didn’t matter if he was caught and sent back to the dungeons. He had to run, _fast_. 

All caution was thrown to the wind as Merlin dashed through the long corridors, his feet pounding like thunder and not caring whether or not he was heard. Stealth was no longer a priority. His heart thumped in his chest and he panted as he whipped around corner after corner. He had planned to escape out of the citadel, but his options were narrowing by the minute. The more time he spent in the castle, the more time Camelot’s guards would have to split up and block every exit possible. Merlin could only pray he didn’t run into anyone, especially not Arthur.

“Check all the stairwells, he could be anywhere. We don’t know how far he’s gotten,” a deep voice barked, “I want no inch of the kingdom unsearched, the sorcerer must be found.”

Merlin skidded to a halt as he heard the order. It was Uther. The King of Camelot himself was out looking for Merlin. He barely had time to react before a horde of knights led by Leon carrying torches rushed into view. They swiftly marched towards Merlin, conversing among themselves and apparently not looking ahead of them, because Merlin remained unseen. That only lasted a second.

Leon was the first to turn his head up, and when he did, he instantly lifted an arm to point directly at Merlin. He shouted, “Here, I see him!” The other knights straightened, alert, then they caught sight of Merlin as well. Boy, was he in trouble now.

His heels squeaked on the floor as he turned on them, racing away as the knights followed close behind. In his head, he ran through the choices he’d have to make next. The citadel was out. There were bound to be guards patrolling out there by now, as well as the other main exits. 

“Someone grab him!”

Merlin slid sharply to the right into another hall, causing two knights to crash into the wall behind him. Despite the stress he was under, Merlin had to chuckle. His small moment of glee was short lived, for five more knights replaced the two that had fallen. Back to the escape plan. No easy routes, no way to lose the knights simply in the corridors. Aside from jumping out a window, perhaps, Merlin was left with one choice: the tunnels. It was going to be difficult to get down there, but he couldn’t give up now, not when both his and Arthur’s lives depended on his escape. The Once and Future King wasn’t about to die because of Merlin’s clumsy footing. 

Pulling all the strength he could muster, Merlin bolted down the first staircase he saw, the distance between him and the knights growing. He swung over the banister and continued to get farther ahead. He could hear frustrated groans from behind, a sign that he was succeeding. Ahead was one of the entrances to the tunnels. Merlin doubted the knights would have much luck following Merlin, considering how narrow the walls were, even less luck if they didn’t see him enter. Thanks to the lead he managed to get, he was able to do just that.

He was in and out of the door in a flash. He slammed it shut, then paused to lean his head back against the door and took a few deep breaths. He squeezed his eyes shut and listened for any movement on the other side. Several pairs of feet stomped past the door, no hesitation to be heard amongst any of them. Merlin sighed, relieved.

‘Sorry lads, you’ll have to catch me another day,” he joked to himself, then pushed himself forwards and into the dark halls beneath the castle, still as cold and dreary as they had been earlier that night. Shivers threatened to creep up his body, but he shook them off and advanced deeper down into the tunnels.

One of these turns should lead him to an iron grate that he could bust open with magic. Merlin carefully stepped forward, attempting to retrace the paths he’d taken many times before. He turned around in a few circles, contemplating the dark walls, misty and slick with condensation. Any one of them could be the right direction, and of course his memory would fail him now of all times.

Merlin rolled his eyes at himself and decided to use his magic. His eyes flashed gold as he stared down every path, magic allowing him to navigate the entire lengths without having to move. Dead end, dead end, connecting tunnels, even more dead ends, the path to the dungeons, _there._ A large iron grate was positioned at the end of the tunnel to Merlin’s left, giving passage to freedom on the other side.

Without another moment's pause, he took off running. And just in time, too, for he was only just out of sight when he heard the door behind him creak open and a single pair of armored boots tread down the stairs. Not the horde of knights he was expecting, but this wasn’t the time for Merlin to question his luck. As silently as he could manage, Merlin slunk through the tunnel to his freedom and the insurance of Arthur’s kinghood. 

A milky fog pervaded the damp air, making it nearly impossible for Merlin to see his own nose in front of him, but still, he carried on. The murkiness would work to his advantage as well, for whoever was following him wouldn't be able to see more than the ghost of an outline of Merlin, and they sounded rather close, too. All Merlin could do was hold his breath and pray that he did not give himself away.

It must’ve only been a minute or two, but to Merlin it felt as if he’d been hiking through the mist for an eternity, but sure enough a small glint of light cut through the thick fog. The gates couldn’t be too far now. Merlin was running now, freedom at his fingertips. He was making more noise, but didn’t care. The footsteps of his follower seemed to have receded, anyway. 

Soon, Merlin emerged from the tunnel into a small room where the fog was much lighter. A large grate stood on the opposite end from where Merlin was, allowing air to circulate in and out. It was much colder in here than it had been in the dungeons, which was saying something, but Merlin paid it no mind. The warmth caused by his heart beating excitedly in his chest was enough to get him by. His face lit up with a smile as he looked the grate over, surveying the bars and contemplating which spell to use. He rubbed his hands together and began to incant, “Tospr-”

“Merlin?”

A voice rang out from the tunnel, causing Merlin to stop midspell and lower his hands to his sides. He didn’t need to look back to see who had been in his shadow, the lone pair of footsteps that ventured beneath the castle, his pursuer who hadn’t bothered to call for any sort of back up to face a sorcerer. He could never forget that voice. 

Merlin hung his head down and kept his feet planted. “Hello, Arthur,” he whispered. There was no response from behind, no movement, no discernable sound whatsoever. Merlin scrunched his nose up in confusion. Why was Arthur presumably just standing there? This was his chance to capture the runaway sorcerer. If that didn’t earn him a pat on the back from his father, Merlin wasn’t sure what would. He couldn’t take the silence anymore, so he turned to address Arthur directly and regretted it instantly.

The prince looked incredibly distraught. The bags under his eyes were worse than Gaius’. Of course, Arthur had had just as much sleep as Merlin, so he must’ve been exhausted. Merlin, however, knew how to fight back the sleep on long nights. Arthur was royalty and always had a bed to sleep in. It should give Merlin some pleasure to see Arthur on his own level for once, but instead it felt as if someone had driven a blade into Merlin’s gut. Arthur seemed to be on the brink of collapsing then and there, and Merlin was responsible for it. 

Arthur’s armor was hanging haphazardly from his body and his hair was tousled, not in the charming way it usually was. Instead it stuck to his forehead with sweat and dirt. His shoulders were tense, one hand on the hilt of his blade, but he didn’t draw it. He seemed to be waiting for Merlin to speak, so Merlin did.

“Arthur, I’m sorry, but you know I can’t stay here awaiting my own death,” Merlin explained. He had been trying to keep a stern face, but looking at Arthur standing there so helplessly, Merlin’s features softened and he continued, “I’m doing this for you. I hope that one day you’ll understand, but I don’t think that today is that day. All I ask of you now is to let me go, and I promise you’ll never have to see me again.”

Arthur bit the inside of his lip and rubbed his foot into the ground. There was something he wanted to say.

“Arthur?”

“I’m confused, Merlin.” If they hadn’t been standing in such a quiet room, his words would have most likely been lost to Merlin. Arthur lifted his hand from his sword and let his shoulders fall. “I don’t know what to do. This is going against everything I’ve ever been told, but I’m not sure if I believe you’ve tried to cause me any harm,” he said, each word coming out slowly as if he was afraid of making a mistake. “I’ve seen firsthand the kindness in your heart, but I can’t ignore the fact that you have magic.”

“You must understand, the evil is not in magic itself, but in the hearts of those who choose to use it for ill.”

“I want to believe that, but Merlin, how can I, after everything I’ve seen done with it?”

“There’s so much you haven’t seen,” Merlin assured him, “I can promise you that. But I can’t talk now, Arthur. I-”

He was interrupted by a noise that made him sick to his stomach. The steady marching of Camelot’s troops echoed throughout the tunnels, growing louder as they approached Merlin and Arthur. The knights were upon them in an instant with Uther by their side. They must’ve somehow heard the conversation echoing through the walls of the castle. Merlin slowly backed up towards the grate, preparing to use his magic at the exact moment he needed to.

Uther glared at him and slapped a hand to his son’s shoulder. “Well done, my boy, I knew you would find him” he beamed. He then turned to Merlin and growled, “Now, let’s get you back to those dungeons,” he motioned for the knights to advance. 

Merlin quickly surveyed the situation. There were a dozen or so knights, surrounding him on every side. Each looked as terrified as the last. In their heads they surely thought one wrong move and Merlin would blow up the whole castle. He scoffed to himself and took one more glance around the room. The only knight who seemed to have no fear was Sir Leon. He only looked regretful as he drew his sword and readied himself to fight.

Merlin could take them all out, easy, but he wasn’t in the fighting mood tonight, and he wanted to keep from using magic in harmful ways as much as possible in front of Arthur as to not teeter him to the wrong side of the battle. Instead of making an attempt to defend himself, Merlin turned to face the iron grate and recited, “Tospringe!” The bars didn’t budge. Merlin’s breathing quickened. That wasn’t supposed to happen. The knights had begun to grow even closer now and Merlin felt the need to fight back, but he repressed it and tried again, “ _Tospringe!!_ ” Still nothing. He was beginning to panic now, and started shouting every spell that came to his mind.

“Alise!”

“Onstyrian!”

"Ar-forcraim!”

None of them were working. Merlin’s breathing became erratic and tears sprang to his eyes. His plan had failed, and he would be going right back to the dungeons. The knights were practically on top of him now, grabbing at his arms and legs. The satchel Merlin had with him was discarded off to the side. Merlin punched and kicked in an attempt to free himself, but there were too many of them. It was no use. In the midst of it all, Merlin caught Arthur’s eye. 

The prince hung back near the mouth of the tunnel as he merely watched Merlin get pulled to his feet and dragged away. His arms hung limp at his side and his mouth was turned downwards in a frown. Uther stood at his side, looking the exact opposite of his son. He stood tall and proud with the smallest hint of a smile on his face. Another day’s work done, another sorcerer taken care of. The burning rage Uther’s face gave Merlin clashed with the deep pangs of sadness that struck Merlin as he looked back to Arthur. His emotions began their own turmoil in Merlin’s mind, overwhelming him and getting louder and louder, almost deafening him until…

“NO!” Merlin screamed, terrible and bloodcurdling. His eyes flashed and a blinding blue wave of light shot out from his body. Time seemed to slow as the knights were all thrown from Merlin at once. Uther and Arthur looked up in shock at the men who were suspended in the air above their heads before they flew into the stone walls and sickening cracks filled the room. Merlin scrambled back against the grate and sat there, catching his breath, then the horror of what he’d done set in. 

Half the knights had gotten up, cradling injured limbs or scratches. They looked dazed, but alright. The other half of the knights didn’t move, didn’t even stir. Their bodies were twisted in angles no human should ever be in. Merlin felt like he was going to be sick.

Arthur dropped to the floor and grabbed the knight closest to him, shaking him.

“Sir Tibault? Tibault, get up,” he urged. When he was met with no response, Arthur touched two fingers to the knights neck, checking for a pulse. The room was absolutely silent as Arthur fell back in shock. He began to go around to the fallen knights, his wrath waxing with every body he turned over. 

“Sir Lucan?”

“Gale?”

Merlin watched with wide eyes as Arthur slowly got to his feet. The remaining knights were rising as well. Merlin took this as a cue to get up himself and slowly approach the prince.

Merlin raised his hands in front of his chest to show he meant no harm, and said, “Arthur, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to do this, I swear.” He was terrified, not knowing what Arthur was going to say next. Here he was, the most powerful sorcerer on earth and the absence of sound was scaring him. 

Arthur kept his eyes to the ground as he spoke, “You’ve killed them.”

“It was an accident, I was just trying to-”

“Merlin, you killed them,” Arthur gasped, his strong blue eyes searching Merlin’s own. There used to be such joy and familiarity in Arthur’s eyes when he’d look at Merlin.They would light up at the mere sight of him and sometimes Merlin couldn’t help but think they looked like a beautiful lake, illuminated by the warm summer sun. It hurt him to now see the dismal bottom of the same lake staring back at him. 

Arthur shook his head and continued, “And to think I was beginning to doubt my father’s ways…” Uther glanced up at this, confused, but did not interrupt. “I really thought for a moment that it was possible for a sorcerer to be loyal to me,” Arthur laughed humorlessly. Tears threatened to spill over as he turned to Uther who gave Arthur a small nod, giving him permission to keep talking and assuring him this was the right thing to do.

“You’re a murderer, just like the rest of them. I should never have been so stupid as to trust you.”

Merlin marched up to Arthur to grab his sleeve, and began to protest, “Arthur, wait-”

He was met with a powerful fist to the face, making Merlin cry out in pain as it knocked him harshly to the cold floor. He crawled back towards the wall and gingerly touched his jaw. Just by grazing his fingers over the tender skin, Merlin could feel a bruise already forming. Arthur had hit him before, but never like this. There was malice behind this strike. Even Arthur himself seemed surprised by the action, but quickly got a hold of himself and shook off any sympathy he was harboring towards Merlin. 

“Get away from me,” he choked out. “I don’t want to see you again until the trial.”

Merlin, still holding a hand to his face, asked meekly, “You don’t really mean that?”

Arthur clenched his jaw and spat, “This is no longer about magic, Merlin. You’ve betrayed me and the kingdom, you’ve killed our men. This is treason now.” He paused, taking a breath before ripping away Merlin’s will to fight. “You deserve to burn tomorrow.”

Arthur wanted him dead.

Merlin almost didn’t believe what he’d heard at first, but it soon sank in. He was only here for Arthur, to guarantee him a long life as the greatest ruler Camelot had ever seen. Merlin was escaping because of his faith in Arthur, because Arthur was his friend. The fact that Arthur no longer cared for him took any strength Merlin still had away. His main motivation for freedom was gone. He’d only be fighting for a lost cause now.

Leon was the first to pick up that Merlin wasn’t going to use magic again, so he lifted Merlin by the arm and held on tight. The other knights followed his lead, moving cautiously as though Merlin may still pose a threat. It didn’t take long for them to feel the dead weight of Merlin and realize he wasn’t putting up a struggle

Uther and Arthur exited the room and disappeared into the tunnels. The knights followed behind, dragging Merlin along with them. 

If Arthur wished him to die, so be it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruhhh i'm sorry it took me so long to actually get this chapter done, but I hope y'all enjoy it! <33  
> these poor babies are going through a lot, but i promise it'll get better for them.


	3. Out of the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur looked into the citadel below where a pyre had already been built in preparation for Merlin’s execution. The trial was going to be as fair as possible, of course, but everyone already knew what the outcome would be. There was no denying it. As he had told Merlin last night, what he did was treason, and under Uther’s rule, treason was never pardoned.

Night had come and gone and a new day was here, bringing with it the soft shine of the rising sun and a light breeze in the balmy air. The sky was dusted in pink clouds that filtered the sun’s rays and turned the towns and grass below into dappled works of art. The atmosphere outside made it hard to believe the tragedy that lay ahead in mere hours.

The prince of Camelot stood in his chambers, gazing out an open window and letting his hair be gently swept back by the wind. His hand was rested over his lips in a state of contemplation. He was already dressed for the day, and had been for quite some time. After everything, Arthur couldn’t get any sleep. Hours went by, and he tossed and turned in bed before finally accepting that the gods of a good night's sleep were not on his side that night, and preparing for what was to come. 

Arthur looked into the citadel below where a pyre had already been built in preparation for Merlin’s execution. The trial was going to be as fair as possible, of course, but everyone already knew what the outcome would be. There was no denying it. As he had told Merlin last night, what he did was treason, and under Uther’s rule, treason was never pardoned.

“My Lord?” a voice called from the entrance to the chambers. Arthur lowered his hand and glanced behind to see who was calling for him. He relaxed when he saw that it was Gwen, though she was not dressed in her usual attire. Most days she wore soft colorful shades such as lilacs, baby blues, and pinks, but today she wore a dusty grey gown adorned with black accents. The color of grief.

With a subtle nod, Arthur walked over to meet her, not bothering to close the window. He liked the breeze, anyway.

“I told you, you don’t need to call me that anymore,” he smiled at her. She stood still in the doorway for a moment, staring at the ground. Arthur concernedly started, “Are you al--”

He was interrupted by her rushing towards him and wrapping her arms around him. Arthur held his hands up, at first unsure of what to do, but as Gwen began to quietly cry into his chest, he placed one hand around her shoulders and the other in her hair, brushing it to calm her.

“I don’t want him to die, Arthur,” she wept, her voice muffled. Arthur continued to stroke her head as he began to think. Merlin was going to die today. Even the thought itself was all too foreign to Arthur. He’d spent so much of the last few years with Merlin at his side, what was it going to be like with him gone? Just this morning, Arthur had found himself wondering when Merlin would be arriving with breakfast before he remembered. No one had come with food, they must have forgotten.

Merlin would never forget.

“Hello?” Guinevere was no longer crying, she had pulled away from the hug and was looking at Arthur with an incredulous look on her face. “Have you listened to a thing I said?”

“Sorry, what?” Arthur asked, confused. He must’ve drifted away in his thoughts.

Gwen let go of the prince completely now and stepped back. She whispered, “Do you even care about him?”

“Merlin?”

She scoffed, “Yes, of course Merlin, who else have I been talking about this whole time?”

Internally, Arthur scolded himself for getting stuck in his own head. It was becoming a habit. In order not to make things any worse, he apologized, “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you said. Could you tell me again?”

That clearly didn’t help, for Gwen didn’t change the expression on her face. Instead, she bit her lip and said awkwardly, “I have to go. Morgana needs me this morning.” She gave him a small curtsy and retreated back out of the chambers.

“Guinevere, wait, I said I was sorry!” Arthur protested. 

“And I said I had to go.” The door slammed behind her. 

Arthur ran his hands through his hair in frustration, then plopped down on his bed with a sigh. He used to care about Merlin, but he just couldn’t afford to anymore. Couldn’t Gwen understand that? Couldn’t she see past the fact that he was her friend, and realize all the harm he’d done? If she was simply going to miss him, Arthur understood. No one could blame her, but acting as if a traitor to the kingdom was still a trusted ally was just ridiculous. 

She’d come around eventually.

A sharp knocking rang out through the chambers, and Arthur leapt up from his bed to open the doors. He was expecting that Gwen had returned to apologize, but his face fell when he opened the door and found himself looking at a guard of Camelot.

Arthur huffed, “What do you want? The trial isn’t for another two hours.”

The guard shifted uncomfortably and explained, “It’s been moved up.”

“Excuse me?” he said. “Why wasn’t I made aware of this?”

With a bow of his head, the guard responded, “It was a recent decision, sire. The sorcerer kept begging we get it over with already. He wouldn't stop.”

Arthur gazed sadly at the guard. Merlin was either plotting some new way to escape, or he had simply lost the will to live. Based on how Merlin had looked at him when Arthur told him he deserved to die, the latter was unfortunately more likely. Arthur turned away from the guard, shaking his head. He should have chosen his words better. He never  _ wanted _ Merlin dead, in fact he was deeply disheartened by the whole situation, but he couldn’t ignore what Merlin had done. Not only did he consistently lie to everyone he knew, he had murdered some of Camelot’s finest knights. He was a sorcerer, a traitor, and a killer. 

He used to be a friend.

“Sire? If you need more time…”

“That won’t be necessary,” Arthur said in his most steady voice, masking his feelings. He didn’t turn around, for fear that his own face would betray him. “For once, I agree with a sorcerer. Let’s get this over with.”

He made a note to say something, anything, to Merlin after the trial. The last words he’d spoken to him had left a sour taste in his mouth, and he wasn’t about to let it linger for the rest of his life.

* * *

Servants whispered and gawked as the royal guard marched heavily down the main corridor with Merlin at the center of them. His hair was disheveled from the lack of a proper bed and his jaw was still splotched in red where Arthur had hit him.

_ One of our own… _

_ He seemed like a good person. _

_ Are they sure it’s him? _

Merlin kept his gaze pointed straight ahead, not caring enough to even give them so much as a glance. He didn’t want to see their faces, anyway. These people once trusted in him. The sadness and betrayal in their eyes would only make him want to get through the trial even quicker and arrive at his inevitable fate. Funny, just yesterday, his “fate” had looked much different than it really was. 

But of course, nothing ever turned out as he expected.

The two guards holding Merlin’s arms tightened their grip as the doors to the throne room swung open in front of them. 

Uther sat directly ahead, sitting relaxed on the throne, his face blank and devoid of any sign of emotion. Arthur and Morgana were each on their thrones as well, though they didn’t appear as calm as Uther. The prince’s foot tapped softly on the floor, his hands holding on to the arms of his chair so hard that his knuckles were turning white, and he stared down at his lap. Morgana, however, never broke her gaze from Merlin since the moment he entered. Her eyes followed him all the way up to when the guards reluctantly let go of him and backed away to the sides of the room. her mouth was drawn in a tight line, not her usual pompous smirk. 

Merlin met her look with a steely one of his own. Morgana shrunk back slightly in her seat, but she did not waver. She knew that he could reveal her secret at any time during the trial, why wouldn’t he? Merlin was starting to wonder that himself. He didn’t exactly have anything left to lose. Before he could think any more on the matter, Uther motioned for the trial to begin. 

The attendees who were chatting amongst themselves hushed as the doors were closed with a slam. Merlin glanced around the room, hoping to find Gwen, only she was nowhere to be seen. He hung his head. He didn’t want her to have to go through the emotional turmoil of the trial, but it would be nice to see her once more before he died. 

“Last night at the royal banquet, you performed an act of magic in front of everyone attending. You made no attempt to cover it up, and you did not object to my accusation,” Uther spoke coolly. “I do not need to call any witnesses. Besides, I can’t have the entire kingdom in one room.”

A guard stifled a laugh and Merlin clenched his jaw, biting back a retort.

“If that wasn’t enough, you escaped from our dungeons, used magic once again, and killed five of Camelot’s finest knights.”

Merlin’s eyes stung with tears. He regretted his actions in the tunnels more than he could ever describe. His magic was always supposed to be used for good and he had gone and done the exact opposite, killing the men who were only trying to achieve the same goal as Merlin; protecting Arthur. 

Merlin glanced at Arthur to see how he was dealing with yesterday’s events. His foot still hadn’t stopped tapping, but his hands now rested in his lap. His eyes flicked from place to place throughout the room, looking practically everywhere but Merlin. How he longed to reach out and tell Arthur everything was going to be alright, but of course Arthur wasn’t looking at him because he could care less about Merlin. He’d ruined everything. It was his fault Arthur hated him, he knew that, and Merlin deserved all he had coming to him. 

Uther continued, “The use of magic is strictly prohibited by the law of Camelot, and anyone practicing such must be executed.”

Morgana stiffened.

“The punishment for murder goes without saying,” Uther said, then paused to make sure Arthur was paying attention. When he saw that he wasn’t, Uther slammed his foot down on the ground. Arthur sat up with a jolt, and in his startlement locked eyes with Merlin. Neither of them looked away for a few seconds. Arthur opened his mouth as if to say something, but apparently thought better of it and took a hold of himself. He nodded to his father to prove his attentiveness. 

Uther was satisfied enough, and declared in mock sympathy, “I have no choice but to sentence you to death.”

Merlin knew this moment was coming. He’d been preparing for it all night after his capture and all morning. These words had run through his mind over and over and over again until he was numb to them. He had even spoken them aloud a few times, just to get used to the sound. So why did this still hurt him as much as it did? Ever since Merlin’s magic had been revealed, he felt as if he had a knife stuck in his gut, and the death sentence had given it a sharp twist.

Arthur let out a shaky breath and fell back in the throne, finally letting his tense muscles slacken. He’d been waiting in suspense to hear these words the entire time and now that he had, he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the chair. Maybe it was the way the early sunlight was striking his face, but Merlin thought he saw a tear spill from Arthur’s eye. 

Morgana still stared at him. The one person she knew of that could reveal her secret was no longer going to be a threat, but then again, he was at his most dangerous now.

“Do you have any last words in your defense?” Uther said, rolling his eyes. He saw no point in doing this, but did anyway as a formality.

Merlin looked at Morgana. If he was going to reveal her secret, this was the time to do so. He could have her banished from the kingdom far away where she could no longer cause any harm, or at least let Arthur know she held the same power as he did. But when he really focused on her face, narrow eyes and her blood red lips pulled in a sneer, he instantly saw past her facade. He himself put it on almost every day. She was terrified, terrified of having her secret revealed and being rejected because of the way she was born. Guilt panged through Merlin. 

He knew just how she felt, for that fear was ever present in his life. What kind of person would he be to put her through that? She had deserved his sympathy years ago and he had not given it, now her heart was beginning to grow cold. Morgana wasn’t who she used to be. There were other reasons she’d changed, but Merlin couldn’t deny he played a role in her unsavory transition. But as much as he wanted to serve his own justice, there was still good in Morgana. She wasn’t a heartless monster, she was a poor girl who’d been broken by the people around her. 

Merlin had already done so much wrong, maybe finally giving Morgana a chance to prove herself was the one last good deed he could do.

“Well?” Uther asked impatiently. Merlin stayed quiet, still studying Morgana’s face. The longer he held his gaze, the more her mask started to crumble away. Merlin took a breath, and gave Morgana the subtlest of nods. Her eyes widened, just for a moment, and her features shifted into a more perplexed look. Seeing this, Merlin smiled. As much as Kilgharrah always insisted the witch must die, she wasn’t so different from Merlin. If he couldn’t live going undetected, at least she could. Finally he moved his head to address the king.

He began slowly, “I only have one thing I wish to say, and it’s to Arthur.” The prince opened his eyes and sat up in his throne. His chest began to rise and fall quickly. Merlin’s face fell at the sight of Arthur looking panicked. He was scared of Merlin simply talking. 

As if the knife couldn’t get any deeper. 

Working through the pain, Merlin started to speak but Uther held up a hand to stop him.

“Wait,” he said with an air of caution in his voice. “How do I know you’re not going to curse him or cast a spell?”

Merlin bit his tongue to stop himself from scoffing and replied, “Because, Uther, I may have lied to you about who I am, but I tell nothing but the truth when I say I would never want to hurt your son, not ever.”

Uther squinted his eyes at his son’s former servant, but he rested his hand back on the arm of the throne.

Merlin took a deep breath before he spoke. “Just… take care of yourself, will you?” he smiled weakly.

Arthur bowed his head to Merlin and responded, “Thank you, Merlin.” His voice grew quieter at the end of the sentence as Uther glared at his son sternly. Arthur quickly apologized, but as soon as the king looked away, he mouthed one more thing to Merlin.

_ I’ll never forget you. _

* * *

  
  


After the trial, Morgana had resigned to her chambers. She watched from the window, her whole body shaking, as Merlin was walked out to the citadel and towards his doom. She wondered why he had kept her secret. There wasn’t anything she’d done for him in recent times to elicit this sort of kindness, yet he still showed it. Perhaps that’s just how Merlin was. Morgana’s breath hitched in her throat as he was hoisted onto the pyre.

Camelot’s king and prince stood tall on the balcony in their glittering armor, a knight positioned on each side of them. Uther had insisted Arthur join him there, he wanted him to have a better view. He said Arthur needed to see what happened to people who betrayed the kingdom, no matter how close they once had been. Arthur clenched his hands so tight that he drew blood.

Guinevere was on the outskirts of the citadel, taking laundry to be cleaned. She heard the bell ring, announcing that the sorcerer was ready for execution. Gwen kept her head down and hurriedly walked into the castle. As soon as she was out of sight, she dropped the laundry to the floor and began to sob.

Gaius sat alone in his chambers, writing a letter to Hunith.

* * *

  
  


Merlin looked so small and helpless with his hands and legs tied to the stake buried in the middle of the bundles of branches and twigs. His eyes were closed, but not tightly. No, he was relaxed. He was calm. If only Arthur could say the same for himself. The more seconds passed, the harder it got to watch. The only thing keeping Arthur from losing it was the sharp pain as he continued to drive his nails deeper. Uther paid no mind to his son, he was only focused on the sorcerer. A cruel smile teased the corner of his mouth.

Arthur looked at him in dismay. His father was  _ happy  _ to see Merlin die. Had he no remorse, no grief? Merlin was once considered a trusted ally by Uther, how could his father change his mind so quickly? Arthur began to wonder, how many others there were that Uther had a biased opinion on, simply because of their magic? He flashed back to what Merlin told him in the cells. 

_ I’d never use magic to hurt an innocent, I swear, and neither would many of the people your father has murdered. _

He began to feel sick to his stomach. It wasn’t unlike the feeling he had after he’d led the raid on the Druid camp all those years before. Peaceful people had been slaughtered countless times because of Camelot’s law. All his life Arthur witnessed hangings, beheadings, people burned at the stake, and did not stray from his blind faith in his father. It had happened more than once that someone used magic for non-violent purposes and was executed cruelly. Camelot was built on the murder of innocents.

And it was about to happen again, unless Arthur did something about it. 

The veil had been lifted from over Arthur’s eyes and he saw clearly now everything he’d done, and what he had to do to fix it. It was Arthur who had betrayed Merlin, not the other way around. He was his friend, he should’ve been there for Merlin, he should’ve listened, and tried not to be as close-minded as his father.

He should’ve made Merlin feel safe.

But it wasn’t too late, at least not yet. Arthur released his nails from the palm of his hand and gasped from the pain, having to grasp the railing to keep himself steady. Uther still didn’t notice his son’s distress, or maybe he just didn’t care. It didn’t matter, though, in fact it worked to Arthur’s advantage for the plan beginning to form in his mind.

Down in the citadel, the villagers of Camelot gathered around the pyre, booing and jeering, some of them even throwing rotten fruit at Merlin. He let them. At the foot of the wood pile, the executioner knelt with a flint and steel in his hands. The flint struck with a sharp crack. Arthur sucked in a breath. A few sparks floated into the air then drifted down to the tinder, but it wasn’t enough to light anything yet. Arthur looked at his father. He was almost leaning over the edge, focused intently on the executioner’s hands. The prince waited. More sparks flew. Uther pressed forward even more.

Suddenly, Merlin opened his eyes. He was looking straight up at Arthur. The varying hues of blue sent icy chills down Arthur’s spine. They were so wide, so scared, and so hurt. 

The wind rushed through Arthur’s ears, deafening him to the world around. He studied Merlin’s eyes even closer. 

They were desolate.

A flash of orange reared up in front between the two of them and obscured all the details of Merlin’s eyes and face, the smoke already building high. The flames spread wildy around the edges of the pyre and worked their way to the center all too quickly. The burning of the wood was acrid in Arthur’s nose. Merlin’s eyes shut a little bit tighter, and Uther’s lips curved into a grin.

_ Now. _

Arthur launched himself away from the balcony and rushed into the castle as fast as he could get his shaky legs to carry him, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He was long gone by the time the king shouted from the balcony and the heavy footsteps of the knights echoed behind him. Arthur raced down the grand staircases, taking them two steps at a time. As he swerved around the foot of the bannister, he nearly lost his balance. Curse his stupid armor.

The momentary lapse in his speed gave the knights the opportunity they needed to catch up with the prince. 

One of them, Sir Kay, put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. He responded by whipping around and taking Kay by his arm and twisting it behind his back, making him cry out. Arthur wrested the shield from his hands then sent the unfortunate knight careening into the wall with a swift kick to his lower back. Once Kay was unconscious, Arthur turned to face Sir Leon and adjusted his grip on the shield.

“Sire?” he asked, confused.

“Sorry, Leon.”

_ Clang! _

Arthur burst out through the doors to the citadel and made no hesitation as he rushed through the middle of the townspeople. They instinctively parted ways to give him a clear pathway to the pyre. Half the villagers cheered, for their prince had come to join them in celebrating the death of an enemy, but the other half murmured amongst themselves in semi-hushed tones. They kept their distance. 

When Arthur reached the pyre and unsheathed his sword, no one was smiling. At this point all surrounding areas of the stake were engulfed in flame. The smog from the smoke was getting thicker, and Arthur’s throat started to tickle with the urge to cough. His eyes began to sting. The fire itself burned it’s way up to Merlin in a frenzy and was licking at his boots. Arthur still had time.

Throwing absolutely all caution to the wind, he leapt through the flames. Branches crumbled to ash beneath his feet and he could hardly see the tip of his sword in front of him anymore, but he fought through it and trekked up. In mere seconds he stood at the smoking pyre.

Merlin looked at him incredulously. “Arthur?” he shouted above the roaring fire and the screams of protest from the crowd. “What the hell are you doing?”

Arthur slashed his sword downwards and cut through the ropes binding Merlin. The sorcerer breathed out a sigh of relief, and tenderly cradled his wrist with his other hand. Then the urgency of their predicament came to him. He grabbed at Arthur’s chest plate and raised his eyebrows, demanding an answer. 

Arthur just grinned at him, “It’s my turn to save you, idiot.” He extended a gloved hand out to Merlin, who looked at it with uncertainty for a moment, but took it in his and held on tight. “You ready?”

Merlin nodded. 

Arthur narrowed his eyes and prepared himself to jump through the fire again. The flames were much higher now and grew near, closing in on the two of them. The heat from only standing nearby had soaked Arthur in sweat. It was going to be risky going back through, but they had no other choice. He shut his eyes, and leapt as far as he could, Merlin in tow.

He felt no wave of heat, no instant shock from going through the flames, in fact he felt cooler than he had before. Arthur looked behind them, and saw that the fire where they jumped from had separated, creating a burning wall of fire on either side of an opening. Arthur breathed out in wonder.

“Arthur, come on!” Merlin yelled.

Guards were spilling out of the castle with their swords drawn and shields at the ready and were joined with more on horseback. From above, Uther was rambling on about closing the gates. 

“Quick, to the stables!” Arthur beckoned Merlin, and they took off running. Hoofsteps beat against the ashy stones. There was no way they were going to be able to outrun horses. Still holding onto Arthur’s hand, Merlin muttered something under his breath. The hoofsteps came to a screeching halt and the horses whinnied loudly. Arthur didn’t have the time to glance back and see what happened, but he trusted Merlin wouldn’t make the same mistake of hurting the knights twice.

After Merlin’s intervention, they were able to make it to the royal stables. The horses must’ve recently been taken out, for their saddles and reins hadn’t been taken off. Arthur said a silent thank you no one in particular. He slid his foot into a stirrup and lifted himself up onto a chestnut stallion, then slung his leg over the saddle. Once he’d seen that Merlin had done the same on his own horse, Arthur flicked his reins and gave the stallion a sharp kick with his heels. 

Side by side, they cantered back out of the stables and raced for the portcullis. The calvary were quick to join the chase. Arthur saw up ahead a guard scrambling to get to the chains in time to trap Merlin and Arthur within Camelot’s walls.

“We’re not going to make it!”

“Of course we are.” Arthur squeezed his legs tighter against his horse’s sides and he leaned forward until his upper body was nearly horizontal. The horse picked up speed and transitioned into a gallop, hooves thundering underneath. The wind whipped through Arthur’s hair. Everything around Arthur grew into a blur, except for Merlin’s figure out of the corner of his eyes, just mere strides behind him. The thrill of it all made him feel alive. He wasn’t sure where they were going or what they were going to do, but it didn’t matter. All that existed was the moment.

The chains for the portcullis rattled as the guard gave them a sharp tug. The noise was lost on Arthur, blending into the rest of his surroundings. Even Merlin, who had gained the lead, was now slightly fuzzy. He passed under the gate, and slowed his mare. Arthur only pushed his horse forward farther. He was almost through to the other side, where he could vaguely see a brilliant green painted landscape and the blurry figure of Merlin. A sound like metal scraping came from overhead. 

“Arthur, look out!” 

The prince’s vision grew clear once more and he saw Merlin looking up in fear. The portcullis was coming down. Arthur swerved to the right on his horse strategically, if he kept going straight then he might not have had a horse to ride on. He was just in time. The heavy iron slammed against the ground, separating Arthur and the knights for good. The horses reared, and a few knights fell to the ground. The others argued amongst themselves and yelled at the guard who lowered the gate. He left his position by the chain to angrily defend himself. Arthur laughed in relief, and turned to Merlin, who was much more serious and looking at Arthur’s right arm.

Arthur tilted his head, then winced. A sharp pain radiated from his shoulder and spread down to his arm. Blood was beginning to soak through his chain mail. As the portcullis was being drawn down, it must’ve struck him, and the adrenaline made him oblivious to the wound until now. 

They didn’t have the time to dwell on it.

Arthur seethed through gritted teeth, “We need to leave,  _ now _ .”

Merlin nodded, and they galloped far into the forest until their figures were swallowed up by the trees and the shrubbery.

* * *

Back at the castle, Uther stood on the balcony, fuming. His hands were clenched tight as his sides.

“My lord, we tried our best, but they got away.”

The king slowly turned his head and hissed at the knight, “Then you should’ve tried harder.”

“But sire--“

“My son has been put under a spell by a sorcerer and kidnapped! I will not rest until they have been found and the threat has been eliminated, do you understand me?” he exploded with nothing but anger in his voice.

The knight bowed his head, then left Uther alone. The king huffed and directed his attention to the citadel where the townspeople were scattered about, and the pyre was still burning in the middle. 

He slammed his fist down on the railing and growled to himself, “You won’t be getting out of this alive,  _ sorcerer _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG BUT IT'S HERE  
> we're finally getting out of the angst territory y'all, it's happening


End file.
